


The Sweetest Dreams

by heyitscmei



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aphelion: A VLD Writer Zine, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gingerbread Houses, M/M, Snow Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitscmei/pseuds/heyitscmei
Summary: As Autumn makes way for Winter and the weather shifts for colder temperatures, Shiro and Keith find warmth in the form of hot chocolate, many colourful blankets and each other's arms.After all, snow days are better spent together.And who ever said Spring was the only season for new beginnings?





	The Sweetest Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> We're allowed to these now so here's my piece from the Aphelion Fic Zine <3

By the time Shiro makes his way back into the living room, Keith has appropriated all of the blankets they had dragged out to the couch, legs folded beneath him as he sits sideways and stares out the window. Outside, snow obscures the ground and every rooftop in sight as it falls from the sky. It hasn’t ceased since they’d woken up—not that it’s been long since then—but the snowflakes continue to dance with the wind with no sign of stopping anytime soon. The clouds hanging overhead paint the sky a muted grey, their edges lined with light as they hold the sun captive. Keith turns away from the window, blinking as his eyes readjust to the lighting.

“Did you feel like going outside?” Shiro asks, sitting down and setting the two mugs of hot chocolate onto the coffee table. Keith gives him a look that would be dry enough to wither gardens—if they weren’t already snowed over.

“No way,” he says, burrowing deeper into the blankets. “It’s cold out there. What would we even do?”

“We could shovel the driveway?” Keith face adopts an unimpressed look that Shiro can’t help but laugh at. “Or we could make snowmen and snow forts. I think you’d enjoy snowball fights— _ if _ you can beat me.”

“I know what you’re doing, Shiro, and it’s not going to work.”

“Darn. I thought I had you with that,” Shiro says, smiling widely as he shifts closer. “If you don’t want to battle, we could just lie down and make snow angels.”

“Wouldn’t that make us colder?”

“I guess, but it might be fun.”

“No thanks.” Keith shakes his head. “The snow-soaked pants won’t be worth it.”

“You might be right about that,” Shiro concedes. “Well, that’s okay. I’ve got my very own snow angel right here.”

Shiro watches the way confusion morphs into understanding before Keith brings a hand up to his face in a poor attempt to cover his blush.

“You didn’t just  _ say _ that.”

“I’m afraid I did, Sugar Plum,” Shiro says with false solemnity, pulling his legs up and crossing them as he turns himself to face Keith better. He can see the way Keith tries to keep his face from breaking into a smile, biting back a laugh behind his fingers.

“God.  _ Shiro.” _

“I was only telling the truth, Sweet Pea. You’re my snow angel.”

“ _ Takashi. _ ” Shiro laughs as Keith uncovers his face to swat at him.

“There you are,” Shiro says, traces of mirth lingering on the corners of his lips, still upturned, as he brings a hand up to cup Keith’s face. He slides his thumb over reddened cheeks and drops a kiss onto Keith’s nose before pulling back. “I know what’ll warm you up.”

“Besides all of these blankets, you mean?” Keith quirks a brow. “What?”

“Hot chocolate, though you’re sweet enough without it. By now it might not be scalding.” Keith rolls his eyes at him, cheeks still flushed pink in a way that Shiro never fails to find charming. Nevertheless, Keith unwraps the covers around himself just enough to hold onto his mug properly, a single blanket still draped over his shoulders as the rest fall around his hips.

“I feel like that should be my line,” Keith says between sips. “What with how you’re always sweet-talking me.”

“You love it.” Shiro says, smiling.

“I love _ you _ ,” Keith corrects, quiet but firm.

“I love you too,” Shiro responds without missing a beat. He says it with all the conviction of a man who has known exactly what he has wanted for much too long.

Now that he has it—has had it for a few years—he has no problem expressing his contentment. He has no problem telling Keith, whenever he may need or want to hear it, how happy he is to have fallen in love with him.

He has no problem saying it to Keith even when he doesn’t need the reminder, though.

Keith licks the milk-moustache off his upper lip and smiles at the words Shiro has left unsaid, implied in the weight of his four-word confession.

The hot chocolate settling in Shiro’s belly, as well as something else, something fond, makes Shiro feel warmer in spite of the cold room.

It’s an incredible sort of spot they’ve found themselves in. Knowing each other so well that they can anticipate the words the other wants to say and know just what the other means. They’ve had so much time together to practice. It would be nice, Shiro thinks, to have so much more of that time together.

His thoughts are interrupted when Keith asks, “are your parents still asleep?”

Checking the time tells Shiro that it’s still incredibly early. He isn’t sure what compelled the two of them to get up at such an hour—the winter chill certainly calls for lazy days best spent sleeping in or snuggling in bed—but Shiro’s willing to admit he’s enjoying the peace. It’s quiet, for one, and he knows Keith likes that too. It’s just the two of them. The world outside is still—apart from the snow drifting down from the sky and the occasional car of an unfortunate soul who has somewhere to be.

“They’ll probably be asleep for a little while.”

It’s so easy to imagine a life just like this. Together in their own home, getting cozy on their own couch, watching out the window on early mornings as the world continues to snooze on.

“I like when we visit them,” Keith confesses. Shiro smiles at that, recalling the first time he’d invited Keith to visit with him, earlier in their relationship. He remembers the initial trepidation and the nervousness Keith had displayed in that way that’s subtle to everyone except for Shiro. He remembers reassuring Keith that he had nothing to worry about.

_ “What if they don’t like me?” _ Keith had asked in a rare display of vulnerability that Shiro had known was not unfounded, the memory of Keith telling him of bad foster families and similarly disappointing experiences lingering in the back of his mind. It had been shared in a display of utmost trust and Shiro knows it hadn’t changed a single thing about how he felt—that such experiences didn’t define Keith.

_ “They’ll love you.” _

_ “How can you be so sure?” _

There had been a lot of things that Shiro had wanted to say in response, but eventually he’d settled on one honest truth.

_ “Sweetheart, you’re not as difficult to love as you think you are.” _

Shiro knows that the notion still rings true. After all, between then and now, that love has only grown stronger for him.

“I’m glad,” Shiro says. “They love having you over here. I think they might have even considered calling the guest room  _ your _ room instead if you didn’t share my room every night.”

Keith hums, a content little sound, and they fall into a comfortable silence. The clock on the wall ticks methodically and Shiro finds himself entranced by the way Keith’s eyes catch the light as he looks back out the window. Shiro believes there are far worse things he could be lost in. Keith’s gaze shifts back to him and Shiro smiles, caught staring.

“You’re making me cold just looking at you,” Keith comments, rather than addressing Shiro’s blatant staring. It is neither uncomfortable, nor is it an uncommon occurrence.

“Then maybe you should share some of those blankets with me,” Shiro retorts, taking Keith’s mug when he hands it to him. Keith huffs in response as Shiro places it next to his own empty mug on the coffee table. His feet unfold from beneath him to land back on the hardwood in the process and he’s grateful for the fact that he can’t feel the cold of the floor through his socks.

Before Shiro can turn back, he finds himself with a lap full of blankets and grumpy boyfriend. Keith is pointedly not looking at his face, cheeks tinged pink once again, as he drapes the blankets over Shiro’s shoulders too, tucking them between Shiro’s body and the couch. Not bothered by this change in position whatsoever, Shiro automatically settles his hands on Keith’s hips, hiking the hem of Keith’s shirt up just a bit. His thumb rubs circles into Keith’s skin, but he doesn’t do much more beyond that, content to just hold Keith in his arms and revel in their shared warmth.

“Better?” Keith asks, just slightly snarky in a way Shiro knows doesn’t actually hold any bite. He nods, tugging Keith closer so that he may kiss him, capturing his warm mouth in a lip-lock that tastes like hot chocolate and the barest traces of mint toothpaste from when they’d brushed away their morning breath together. It’s another image that Shiro keeps in the back of his mind. It fits perfectly into the potential future he’s built within the confines of his mind; bed hair and brushing teeth and elbowing each other playfully by the sink in their bathroom, stealing kisses once they’ve both cleaned up and spending lazy mornings just like this together.

“Perfect,” Shiro confirms, pressing another kiss, quicker than the last, to Keith’s lips. He can’t help the way his hands automatically move from Keith’s hips to circle around him in a loose embrace. Keith drops his head onto Shiro’s shoulder and Shiro thinks there is something inexplicably  _ cute _ about the way Keith nuzzles into his neck, breath warm and fanning out in even puffs over his skin.

It would be so easy to nap like this—to lean his head back and close his eyes and just hold Keith, so pliant and sleepy and warm, against him in their little blanket cocoon. They fall quiet again and Shiro thinks Keith might actually be asleep; he knows he’s well on his way to that point too. Unfortunately, his stomach doesn’t quite get the memo and growls unhappily at him.

“We should eat breakfast before we fall asleep here,” Shiro murmurs. The statement is punctuated by another grumble from his stomach and Keith groans against his neck.

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbles. It’s adorable and childish in a way Keith usually isn’t and, if he weren’t getting so hungry, he would probably let Keith have his way by virtue of being cute and snuggly. Shiro will admit, he’s reluctant to let go of Keith’s warmth and the feeling of holding him in his arms, but—

“Baby, I’m hungry. Aren’t you?”

“Even if I was, you can’t cook anyways.” Keith retorts, tone bordering on grumpy.

Shiro protests, feigning hurt in a way that makes Keith snort at him. He doesn’t deny it, however, because both of them know it’s true. He’d figured that they’d work something out. Besides, Keith is a decent cook and Shiro is learning so, between the two of them, they’d probably be able to figure out something as simple as breakfast.

Shiro has half a mind to just carry Keith, blankets and all, into the kitchen, but then he remembers the treat he’d bought with Keith in mind—specifically, Keith’s affinity for sugar—and figures that might make his job easier.

“It’s not breakfast, but what if I said we had a gingerbread house to assemble?”

There’s a pause before Keith groans again.

“You’re fighting dirty.”

“Is it working?”

“Unfortunately _. _ ” A smile makes its way onto Shiro’s face, unbidden, as Keith slides off of his lap. His boyfriend has always had such a sweet tooth.

Keith isn’t the only one feeling eager, though, as they enter the kitchen. Shiro hasn’t assembled a gingerbread house in such a long time and he can feel that little bit of childish excitement bubbling up and wiping away the remnants of sleep hanging over him.

It goes like this:

Keith commandeers the icing and Shiro is responsible for decorating.

Keith puts a very liberal amount of icing onto the roof, very seriously insisting that it’s snow, for realism’s sake, and Shiro laughs, fond and amused.

Keith makes a gingerbread man that looks vaguely like Shiro and Shiro creates one that looks vaguely like Keith.

Keith swats at Shiro when he uses the pieces of chocolate to spell out ‘T + K’ on the roof of the house.

Gingerbread Keith ends up holding gingerbread Shiro’s hand.

The house isn’t stunning by any means, it’s actually quite messy, but it’s perfect for eating all the same.

“It looks awful,” Keith comments as he swipes some icing off of his cheek with his finger. How it got there is its own mystery.

“Tastes sweeter than real snow does, though,” Shiro says, kissing some leftover icing off the corner of Keith’s lips.

“Know that from experience, do you?”

“Maybe,” Shiro says, laughing when Keith shoots him a bewildered sort of look. “I was a kid!” He defends, wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist and tugging him close to his side. Keith rolls his eyes at him.

“Well, at least our gingerbread selves are living the life. Icing for snow and all.”

“They’ve even got their own house to pay bills for and a gingerbread lawn to tend to. A sweet domestic life indeed,” Shiro jokes, plucking a piece of candy off the roof and popping it into his mouth. He can’t help but think about how sweet a  _ real _ domestic life with Keith would be and his mind supplies him with the thought that this is something he wants—forever if possible. He thinks about building gingerbread houses together in their own kitchen as the snow falls outside. He thinks about chastising each other for eating the candy or icing or cookies before the house is complete. He thinks about how  _ right _ it feels, to envision a future where Keith is right there beside him, just like their gingerbread counterparts.

“My gingerbread-self probably proposed with a ring pop,” Shiro says, basking in the warmth that Keith’s laugh sends erupting within him.

“How  _ sweet _ ,” Keith responds, adorably amused and smiling so bright and genuine that Shiro would swear he puts the sun to shame.

The thoughts about a future with Keith aren’t new by any means, becoming more and more frequent with every moment they spend in each other’s company.

What  _ is _ new is how ready he feels to finally act on behalf of those thoughts, recognizing the opportunity for what it is. He knows there will be other opportunities, that there is no need to rush, but he feels like he’s ready to finally take that first step forward. He gathers all of his convictions, the thoughts he’s entertained—wanted to act on—for so long, and borrows a page from Keith’s book. He takes the plunge.

“I don’t know… A ring pop is nice, I guess, but I can do better.” Keith’s gaze snaps from the house to Shiro’s face and he swallows around the small bit of nervousness he’s feeling.

“And how would you do that?” Keith asks. Shiro wonders if that’s hope in Keith’s eyes or if it’s his own wishful thinking. Nonetheless, he pushes on, determined to see this through.

“We could go and take a look at some rings,” Shiro begins, “and they’d be perfect because they’d be rings we chose together. Rings that both of us like.”

“That does sound better,” Keith says, soft and quiet.

“I’d tell you how excited I am—how  _ happy _ I am—because I don’t want to imagine a future without you right there with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Shiro affirms. “And I’d tell you how important you are to me and how much I love you because, God, Keith, I am so in love with you and I fall deeper in love with you all the time. I’d tell you about every time I felt myself fall, like when you first told me you loved me back or even the days like today, spending early morning snow days together, just us two, that make me realize how much I want this.”

“You always were such a sap,” Keith says, voice wet and eyes glistening. Shiro takes a deep breath.

Home stretch.

“I love you and I want to take all these dreams for the future and share them with you. To make all these fantasies a reality, if you want them too.”

The rhythmic ticking of the clock, the sound of the wind blowing outside... All of it melts away until all that’s left is Shiro’s own heartbeat resonating in his ears and the intensity of Keith’s eyes boring into him. Then there are warm lips on his and this time the kiss tastes even sweeter than before. Shiro thinks idly that the icing is only partially to blame, melting into the touch as Keith pours every ounce of emotion into it.

“Yes! God—Takashi— _ Yes! _ ” He doesn’t know if Keith says it aloud for the sake of propriety or just because he wants to, but Shiro supposes it doesn’t matter as he pulls Keith close. A laugh bubbles out of him as Keith reaches up to wipe at his eyes and he doesn’t even know when they started to fill with tears. He wants to pick Keith up and swing him around, to pull him close and never let go. He instead settles for kissing Keith again and the smile he gets when he pulls away is enough to cause a flurry of emotion within him.

In spite of the cold outside, Shiro feels warm as he holds Keith tight in his arms, indulging in the sheer delight overtaking him.


End file.
